


Said Aloud, It Can Change Your Life

by SundayZenith



Category: Mary Poppins (1964), Mary Poppins (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Likely OOC, So yeah, i guess?, i was half asleep when i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 08:58:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14185458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SundayZenith/pseuds/SundayZenith
Summary: A young Mary teaches a young Bert to smile.





	Said Aloud, It Can Change Your Life

**Author's Note:**

> Some references to the "Movie Bert is Mr. Dawes's son" theory.

“There’s somethin’  _ special _ about you, Mary Poppins.”

 

“There’s many things special about me, _ and  _ you, Bert.”

 

Bert snorts, bracing his forearms against the rail of the bridge, the wind blowing his hair forward- he had  forgotten his hat in his haste to leave his house. Him? _ Special _ ? The way his nose stung and the look his father gave him earlier- to disgusted for word- made clear otherwise.

 

“Be serious, Mary.”

 

“You should know at this point that I am always serious.”

 

He should, and he did. Bert had met Mary when they were children- though despite that he sometimes had a hard time wrapping his mind around the thought of Mary as a  _ child _ . When he had been younger, he had thought she was like an adult trapped in a child’s body, and her uncle was a child meandering in an adult’s body.

 

He didn’t think that any more, of course. Mary wasn’t just some old soul or wise and aloof young lady. She was  _ different _ . She was  _ special _ \- and not just in they way she was implying he was.

 

“There’s somethin’  _ magical _ about you,” He tried.

 

“There’s something magical about you, too, Bert.”

 

His chest felt tight- not with frustration, never with frustration. At this point, Bert was certain the only reason Mary kept him around was because he realized early on there was no point in frustration or direct questions. He knew she never explained anything.

 

To her, everything was obvious, and in the end, he knew, it usually was.

 

His chest felt tight because he knew he was somehow letting her down by not grasping what was so obvious then and there. Disappointing Mary was worse than disappointing his father. Perhaps because his father  _ knew _ there was nothing magical about him.

 

He wished he hadn’t brought it up in the first place- whatever  _ it _ was. Mary hadn’t invited him out on a walk- saving him from his father’s temper- just so she could watch him try to talk through things he didn’t quite understand, but felt he  _ should  _ anyway.

 

He sighed. She sighed, too.

 

She moved away from the railing, and Bert tried not to let his shoulders slump. Mary only spent summers with her uncle, and in the last few years, only parts of summers. She could be there one day, disappear with the wind for a week, then show up to invite him to tea with her and her uncle on the tuesday after she had left. 

 

Whatever Mary Poppins was, she was always good company.

 

Instead of walking away with a backwards goodbye, like he expected, she moved closer.

 

“You  _ are _ magic, Bert,” she said. “Anyone is, if they bothered. I could teach you something.”

 

“Really?” Bert straightened out.  _ Actual magic? _ He didn’t need to ask her to clarify- she would make it clear in a moment, he knew.

 

“I know a word- a _ special _ one,” she smiled a barely there smile that immediately made the green grass of the park greener, the river beneath the bridges clearer, and the London clouds all but disappears. “Its an old word- yet so new. It can mean anything and everything, and should be used as often as possible- much more practical, that way- yet it is a   _ powerful  _ word, so it must be used carefully.”

 

Bert leaned closer, though a voice in the back of his mind- which sounded dangerously close to his father’s- told him not to. For all his natural grace, Bert was not a careful person, the voice said. Bert was not worthy of something so  _ special _ .

 

Mary whispered the word in his ear- it seemed more like a nonsense sentence than a word. It was so long he was sure he would immediately forget it. Yet he knew every syllable and sound right away. 

 

She pulled away, and Bert stood there, blinking, feeling dazed.

 

Almost without meaning to, it immediately fell from his lips- well, it as to long to fall, to be spoken unintentionally

 

Fourteen syllables, sixteen vowels, eighteen consonants.

 

It sounded just as ridiculous out loud. He repeated it to himself once more, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

 

At first, it was a small, almost startled chuckle, but it grew. Bert doubled over, leaning against the bridge’s railing again for support. His middle, his chest, his face hurt more than his nose had, he was laughing so hard. His head felt lighter and the air itself felt like it had shifted. It was just an overly long, nonsense word, and yet it had him laughing harder than he could remember laughing before.

 

Mary let out a single, amused laugh herself, and it was enough to bring him back down- he felt almost as though he had been flouting.

 

“Th-that,” Bert rubbed the tears of laughter from his eyes, suddenly embarrassed, though he couldn’t stop smiling. “That’s not any kinda magic I was expectin’.”

 

He didn’t see how it could be magic at all.

 

Mary’s expression hadn’t changed, though her eyes seemed a mixture of amusement and, of all things, sadness. “Well,” she said simply, “It made you smile.”

 

And with that, he understood. He couldn’t remember every laughing or smiling that hard at something. Perhaps because he never _ had _ .

 

Earlier, before his father had been moved beyond words, he had sputtered out that Bert was destined to be lower than a chimney sweep, that he should be cast out right then and there, that he would never live up to his brother. That he was a blight, a fool, that he was just _ bad _ .

 

All for showing up to his father’s bank covered in chalk dust.

 

“You know what, Mary Poppins, maybe you’re right. Maybe I might just be special.”

 

“Of course I’m right Bert.”

 

Bert leaned forward against the rails again. He closed his eyes and let himself smile and the wind changed, blowing hair back.


End file.
